


Running Lines

by Miniatures



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom Richard, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Implied Cockles - Freeform, M/M, Nobody is Married, Romance, Sabriel UST, Sub Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4848350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miniatures/pseuds/Miniatures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard was going to have an aneurysm, and it was all Jared’s fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is just for fun. I don't ship these guys in a real-life context, nor do I presume to imply that any relationship mentioned in this fic in any way reflects its real-life counterpart. 
> 
> Maaaybe Cockles.

Richard was going to have an aneurysm, and it was all Jared’s fault.

He’d known coming in to direct an episode of _Supernatural_ would be difficult. Even more so considering his dual roles in the production of said episode—Mr. Director and the Archangel Gabriel. He’d spent enough time on-set and enough time around the boys to know what to expect, and he thought he’d braced himself for it. It appeared he had been wrong.

At first it hadn’t been so bad. A big congratulatory prank to open with, a la Misha’s pies to the face—Richard’s had taken the form of a localized paintball bombing. Both he and the side of his trailer had spent Day One of his shoot looking like melting ravers.

A smattering of smaller, less disruptive jokes were scattered over those first few days (most pulled off by Jared), and Richard yelped and laughed and rolled his eyes through every single one. Gracious returning victim, and all that.

Then they’d hit Friday. Day Four, halfway through the shoot, with the weekend on the horizon. The second day that Richard was scheduled to act, and the first where he was scheduled to act with Jared and Jensen. At first, Richard had been pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to fall back in step with them. There was plenty of joking around, of course; again, mostly precipitated by Jared, who was having far too much fun fucking with Richard on this shoot. But once they hit their stride, all three of them were in top form. Behind Gabriel, Richard was fighting the urge to beam and cheer at the quality of some of their takes.

Then it was time for Sam and Gabriel’s scene.                                  

Richard had been looking forward to filming it. For all his on-set fuckery, Jared was a damn good scene partner. And had really good chemistry with Richard. And was fun to stare at for hours on end. In their younger days, in earlier episodes, Richard would have gone as far as to say he was harbouring a crush on his co-star. He still remembered the gutpunch of adorable that was Jared in his early twenties, all dimples and bright eyes and fucking _hair_. Remembered how he’d swallowed his butterflies, bitter wings and all. Next to Jared, what was he?

Nearly ten years later, nothing had changed. Or almost nothing: Richard had gotten to know Jared much better since then, and knew that _crush_ was no longer the right word for what he felt. There were too many big laughs and small smiles, too many bad nights and good, good dreams between them now. Too many lingering palms and glances—if Richard hadn’t been so adept at keeping up appearances, he might have been as bad as Jensen was with Misha. Of course, Jensen was Misha’s type in a way that Richard could never be Jared’s. So there was that.

But it was so, _so_ much easier to put that aside when Jared was acting like this. They had a half hour until the end of the day, they were behind schedule already, and they were nowhere near finishing Sam and Gabriel’s scene.

Because Jared kept forgetting his fucking lines.

“God, okay, okay, feed it to me one more time?”

The script supervisor obeyed, and Richard ran a hand over his face. “Sti-i-ill rolling, people. C’mon, Jared, man, get it together.”

“‘… We saved the world, all because—’ right, got it.” Jared flashed his director a winning smile, and Richard couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss or smack it off his stupid pretty face. “Sorry, Rich, long day.”

 _He knows exactly what that does to me, I swear to god._ “It’s all good. Let’s just try to get this out, okay? From ‘Y’know, I can’t believe it’.” Richard quirked a smile back, and shook himself out. Slipped Gabriel back on like an old shirt as Jared—as Sam—opened his mouth.

“Y’know, I can’t believe it.” He let out a short laugh. “I was actually going to thank you.”

Gabriel eyebrowed at him. “Thank me?”

Sam’s gaze was splintered, cold and hurt. “Your plan to stop Lucifer worked. We saved the world, all because of you, and I was going to say thanks. But now… ” He shook his head. Paused for dramatic effect. “Shit.”

Okay, _not_ for dramatic effect.

Richard sighed, trying not to scream as Jared was fed his line for the fourth time that night. Jared turned back, they settled back in, and Gabriel spoke again.

“Thank me?”

“Your plan to stop Lucifer worked. We saved the world, all because of you, and I was going to say thanks. But now… I mean, where do you get off jedging us— _jedging_.” Jared burst out laughing. "Weer dew yew geet awf jedging es?”

Off on the sidelines, Jensen was doubling over and cackling. A part of Richard wanted to join in—he didn’t _like_ playing bad cop, dammit—but most of him just wanted to get the shots and call it a night.

“Okay, _cut_.” He pointed at Jensen, mouth splitting into what he hoped was a not-too-manic grin. “You. Outta my hair, Ackles, I’d like to get this over with _before_ they cancel us, okay?”

“Aw, c’mon, five more minutes? I’ll be quiet.”

“No, no you won’t. TGIF and goodnight, Jensen. And as for _you_ ,” he added, rounding on Jared as his co-star slunk off-set, “you are aging me. You’ve been on a roll all night, what’s going on?”

Jared had the decency to look cowed, but Richard saw his lips twitching. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I got this, Richard, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“Cross my heart.”

Richard sighed. “Okay. Reset, we’ll take it from the top.”

Jared winked at him as everyone started getting back into position. Richard gritted his teeth and tried not to melt. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Jared was doing this on purpose. They were at the tail end of a long day, sure, but this was the umpteenth time he’d messed up the scene. The dailies were going to be full of dropped eyelines, missed marks, and the like, much more than was typical; Jared liked to fuck around, sure, but he was a professional at the end of it all. And if he was edging into a bad headspace, he knew all he had to do was send Richard their pre-arranged signal and the shoot would be over. No, either this was deliberate, or he was genuinely struggling with the dialogue.

It _had_ to be deliberate.

He called action, and another take began.

Gabriel cocked a brow. “Stop acting like you’re not impressed.”

“And what,” Sam sighed, “am I impressed by, exactly?”

“Seriously?” Gabriel gestured to his and Richard’s body with all the salacious confidence of a celestial being with no appreciation for contemporary beauty standards. “Your old fallen comrade, back from the dead after all this time? I know, I know, it wasn’t cool to let you go through the Seven Stages of Grief alone, but hey, I made a judgment call.”

Sam made a face. “This isn’t exactly my first resurrection. Hell, it’s not yours— _even_ yours—shit.”

Gabriel fell away, and Richard groaned. “Okay, that’s it. _Cut_ , that’s it, we’re done.”

Jared’s eyebrows flew up. “What?”

Richard swung his arms up. “We’re done shooting for the week. I _know_ it’ll bite us all on the ass on Monday,” he said to the script supervisor, who looked appropriately murderous. “I don’t care. _Mister Padalecki_ and I,” he gave Jared a tight smile, “are gonna spend our weekend making this scene so fucking perfect we could get it in a take.”

  The crew began to disperse, and Jared crept towards Richard, his brow furrowed and his head bowed forward so his hair fell into his eyes. Motherfucker.

“Look, hey, I’m sorry, Rich,” he said. Quietly, so only Richard could hear. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, this scene is just kicking my ass.”

Richard pursed his lips. Of course Jared forgot his lines sometimes, it happened. It was bad form to assume the worst of your actors—of your _friends_ —but Richard couldn’t shake the feeling that Jared was… playing him, somehow. Still, all he could do was shrug.  

“I know,” he said. “But we _have_ to get it down, okay? It’s a key scene, and we’re already behind… sorta can’t afford for it to kick your ass right now.”

 “You’re right.” Jared chanced a hopeful little smile, and Richard was determinedly unaffected. A heroic effort, really. “Not mad?”

Richard’s heroism crumbled and he smiled back. “How could I stay mad at that face? Now, c’mon, I’m gonna make sure everything’s sorted here and then we’re gonna grab some drinks to wallow in, sound good?”

“Uh, actually, I was about to ask if you wanted to come back to my trailer.”

Richard’s heart probably shouldn’t have stuttered at that. Nor should his brain have done the things it did at the sound of Jared saying _come_ and _back_ in such short succession. He blinked, and made a very articulate questioning noise.

Jared grinned. “To run the lines. I wanna work on them over the weekend, but that requires… y’know. Knowing them.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah.” Richard cleared his throat. “I’ll be right there, wait up for me.”

 

He couldn’t have gotten to the trailer fast enough. By the time he made it, the lot was devoid of life, and the lights were almost all out. Nothing was left but the soft yellow wash illuminating Jared’s trailer door like some kind of divine spotlight.

Yeah, Richard wasn’t sure this was such a great idea.

Richard knocked, and the door swung open, and Jared, goddamn him, was incandescent. He was beaming, backlit by warm light, accompanied by a gust of warm air and a sort of spicy, musky mansmell that was probably sweat but dear god, it smelled so wonderfully of _Jared_. Richard wanted it bottled and poured on his pillow, and that wasn’t weird at all.

“Hey, c’mon in.” Jared stepped aside, swinging an arm out. Richard climbed into the trailer, suddenly feeling all forty-five of his years and every errant pound clinging to his bones.

Once inside, Richard spun on his heel to face Jared again. “I brought my script,” he said a little too loudly, brandishing the sides.

“And I’ve got mine.” Jared was still smiling as he crossed the trailer. He lifted a fistful of two stout bottlenecks. “Wanna drink?”

Richard lifted an eyebrow. “You’re just gonna give me the _bottle_? Like an _animal_?”

“Please. What do you take me for?” Jared’s other hand ducked out of sight and reemerged with two glasses in tow. As he began to pour the stout, he asked, “So how goes directing?”

“You _do_ know I’ve done it before, right?” The trailer’s couch looked inviting, and upon inspection proved to live up to its appearance. “I’m not exactly popping my cherry here.”

“Well, yeah.” Jared brought the drinks and joined Richard on the couch, passing him a glass. “But this is the first time you’ve done it with _us_. And for TV.”

“Eh.” Richard shrugged. “It’s… it’s different. But it’s a good sort of different. When you and your partners in crime aren’t raising hell.” He chuckled and took a sip of the stout. It tasted like dark chocolate and woodsmoke.

Jared laughed. “Hey, we’re the Winchesters. Raising hell is what we do.”

“You’re professional children, is what you are.”

“Oh, like you’re much better?” Jared lifted an eyebrow. “Mister Jacket-Off?”

“Don’t bring the bit into this, the bit is timeless.”

Another laugh, flash of dimples. Richard smiled and dove back into his stout. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch, and for a moment everything was peaceful. Jared ran hot, a long bundle of warmth just a few inches from him. Richard imagined he could feel the other man’s eyes on him, though he knew that was just wishful thinking. Just wishful thinking that Jared could be watching him the way he watched Jared sometimes, eyes soft and wanting. That he might feel big, gentle hands running over him in calming sweeps. That he might taste stout and Jared in a lazy press of mouth and tongue—

The sudden pressure of fingers on his arm sent him out of his daydream and thudding back onto the couch. Jared’s glass was on the coffee table in front of them, replaced in his hand by his script.

“Figure we should get started before you nod off on me,” Jared said, smiling soft.

Richard got to his feet, shaking his head as Jared followed him. “Right, yeah, good idea.”

He was already off-book, so he didn’t bother picking up his own script, which he’d brought more for his notes than the lines. Right now it was just about getting it out, and he told Jared so.

“Don’t worry if you stumble a bit, we just gotta—we gotta get a rhythm going. This is a big deal for them.”

Jared nodded. “I know. Shall we?”

Richard took a breath, and Gabriel exhaled. (No point doing anything half-assed.)

“Stop acting like you’re not impressed.”

“And what am I impressed by, exactly?”

“Seriously? Your old fallen comrade, back from the dead after all this time? I know, I know, it wasn’t cool to let you go through the Seven Stages of Grief alone, but hey, I made a judgment call.”

“This isn’t exactly my first resurrection.” Sam’s eyes were cold. “Hell, it's not even my first of _yours_.”

Gabriel made a face, shrugged. “True. Still, gotta be nice to see some familiar, all-powerful faces, considering the circumstances.” His lip curled. “What is this, the _third_ ancient evil you idiots’ve sprung from the depths? Gotta be a new record.”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping track?”

“Well, duh. I wasn’t about to miss an episode of the Winchesters’ Cosmic Screwup Variety Hour.”

Sam laughed, brusque and ugly, and Jared lowered the script some. “Y’know, I can’t believe it… I was actually going to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“Your plan to trap Lucifer worked. We saved the world, all because of you, and I was going to say thanks. But now…” Sam shook his head. He looked up from the script and met Gabriel’s eye. “I mean, where do you get off judging us?”

“Watch it.” Gabriel’s voice was sharp at the edges.

Another short laugh, and Sam took a long step forward. “You left, Gabriel! That was supposed to be you taking a stand, that was supposed to be your… your redemption! And instead it was just another opportunity to cut and run!” The script was dangling loose between Jared’s fingertips now, swaying at his thigh.

Somewhere beneath the surface, everything clicked. The shitty takes, the simple, botched lines. But Gabriel had the reins, so Richard kept his mouth shut.

Gabriel lifted his chin. “You wanna talk to me about redemption? You’ve broken the world way more times than you’ve saved it, Sam.”

“At least I keep trying to do right! You made one big gesture and screwed off back to Heaven!”

“I _have_ tried!” Gabriel closed the space between them so he and Sam stood toe-to-toe, and then he fucking _snarled_. “Who was it who warned you about this, Sam? Who warned you that if you kept obsessing over saving Dean, you were going to run yourself and everything around you into the ground? You didn’t listen then, and _you’re still not listening_!”

Sam gaped, and somewhere there came the sound of paper hitting the floor. “Gabriel…”

The archangel shook his head, took a small, halting step back. “I was trying to prevent this. I was trying to…” He laughed. “I was trying to save you from yourself, ‘cause that’s the only way this is ever gonna stop.”

Sam closed his mouth, bowed his head. No doubt images of Dean and stakes and Broward County flashing through his mind. “I’m… I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve—”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t apologize.”

Sam’s eyes snapped up.

“You wanna make it right?” Gabriel curled a finger under Sam’s chin and raised it an inch. “Get over yourself, get back out there, and make it right. But don’t just sit here hating yourself, ‘cause you don’t deserve it.” He smiled, tired and empty. “Take it from someone who does.”

Sam smiled back. “Thank you.”

Gabriel lowered his hand, and Richard said, “You son of a bitch.”

Any other time, it would’ve been amusing how stark the difference was between sheepish Sam and sheepish Jared. For now, Richard was too livid to appreciate it. His eyes flickered to the script lying crumpled on the floor, back up to his rapidly shrinking co-star.

“Son of a _bitch_.”

Jared shrugged up his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Rich, I—”

Richard flung his arms out and laughed a little manic. “We wasted all that time, Jared! Wasted it on a scene we could’ve fucking _nailed_! What… I don’t…” He lowered his arms and drew his brows together. “I don’t get it. Are you trying to make me look bad?”

Jared’s eyes widened. “No! No, god, I wasn’t even _thinking_ —we’re behind schedule all the time, Rich, we’ll make it up. I just…”

“You just what? Fake-flubbed everything so you could pad the blooper reel?”

“No, I—”

“Then _what_?”

“Would you let me _finish_?” Jared snapped. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “It’s the stupidest fucking thing. Seriously, you’re gonna think I’m nuts.”

Richard crossed his arms. “Well, I’m already pretty pissed at you, so there’s not much more damage you can really do at this point.”

Jared snorted softly. Dropped his eyes and deflated. “I… actually, this is exactly what I was hoping for. I wanted to draw out the shoot, I wanted to get you alone to run lines, I wanted…” He looked up and gave a tentative smile. “I wanted _you_ , Rich.”

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Richard felt like he’d just come untethered, like the world was dissolving from under his feet. Jared had to have meant something else, there had to be something he was missing.

“I’ve always wanted you, I think—”

( _Liar_.)

“—at least on some level, y’know? It just took me... actually, until really recently to figure it out. I heard you were gonna direct, and I got the script, and it just sort of hit me all at once. Working with you, it’s like—you’re a shot of something electric, Rich, and I can’t get enough of it. I want it, I want _you_ ,” Jared said again, “and I kinda got carried away chasing you.”

 Richard couldn’t think, he couldn’t fucking _think_ , it was too much too fast and it was all impossible. “So… you ruined the scene so you could… get me alone and run lines. Because you… think I’m a good actor?”

“Yes. Um, no, I mean, that’s not the only part of it.” Jared’s eyes softened. “That’s what got me thinking. But I want all of you, Richard. I really do.”

A part of Richard wanted to step back, clear his head, do the smart thing and talk it out. But then Jared licked his lips, and that part of Richard was nothing but white noise. Jared wanted him, and who cared that it might not be love, who cared that Richard had every right to be furious and hurt. Jared wanted him, and Richard wanted him back with everything that he had.

He took a step forward and clutched at the front of Jared’s shirt with shaking hands. “Then prove it,” he growled, and yanked Jared into a hard kiss.

For a moment it was like he was trying to coax air from an empty lung, mouthing and biting at still flesh. Then wet and nudge and Jared was kissing back, moaning gusts of stout between his teeth. Richard’s hands slipped under his shirt and ate up his skin, dug into the meat of his back. Cloth slid between them, pinned denim and cotton—Richard wanted it gone, wanted to be closer, wanted _more_.

Jared made a noise, and they broke apart with a shudder like a crack.

“God,” Jared murmured. His hands were on Richard’s arms, clinging to him like a lifeline. “Rich, can we…” He shook his head. “Fuck, I don’t know what to _do_ with you.”

Richard breathed a laugh. “And here I am with the opposite problem.”

“Well.” Jared’s eyes gleamed hungry and dark. “You _are_ the director.”

The gravel in his voice was a bolt straight to Richard’s cock, and he let out a soft moan. To be given permission to quite literally have _his way_ with Jared motherfucking Padalecki… the possibilities were mouthwatering.

But a voice hovered at the back of his mind— _you’re a lump, a nothing, fat and insecurity wrapped in aging burlap. You can only disappoint_.

Richard sagged, shook his head. “I—”

Fingers tightened on his arms, and he met Jared’s eye. Saw the pleading there, the whine gathering in the younger man’s bones. “You said I pissed you off today,” Jared hissed. The rest of his words went unspoken but still rang out clear as day. _Make me pay for it._

Richard swallowed. “On your knees.”

Jared sucked a shaky breath and obeyed, sitting on his heels and letting his hands clench over his thighs. Some of Richard’s nerves began to dissolve as he drank in the sight, as he palmed at his slowly hardening cock through his jeans and imagined all the things he might do. He watched Jared’s eyes follow his hand—the younger man’s lips were parted, red and plush, and Richard had to throttle back a groan.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he managed. He unzipped his fly and pulled himself out, gave himself a few long strokes as he spoke. “But you like running it off, don’t you, Jared? Like saying things you’re not supposed to?”

He placed a thumb on Jared’s lower lip, curled his fingers under his chin and lifted it. Jared’s pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed. His tongue pushed forward, warm against the pad of Richard’s thumb.

Richard smiled. “Such a pretty mouth,” he said again. “I think I oughta put it to good use.”

He pressed down with his thumb and Jared’s mouth fell open, panting as Richard brought his now fully hard cock up to it.

Richard’s breath hitched as he slid inside—he tangled the fingers of his free hand in Jared’s hair as the other continued to clutch his chin, thumb brushing over his skin as if to soothe. His mouth was soft and lush, and Richard could’ve come from the sheer sensation of having it close around him.  

Jared moaned, eyes gone heavy as he peered up at Richard. Richard smoothed his hand through Jared’s hair. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he said.

He gave a short, forward thrust of his hips. Another, then another. Jared relaxed into it, throat loose and tongue raised to graze the underside of Richard’s cock—and _fuck_ , the noises he was making. Desperate little juddering whines that increased in pitch as Richard continued to fuck his mouth.

“Fuck,” Richard choked out, “ _fuck_ , so good, feel so good baby…”

He could feel his orgasm building, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to chase it. _Come hard down Jared’s throat, watch him swallow you down_ —but no, he wasn’t quite finished yet. He stopped himself and drew out slowly, sank to his knees in front of Jared and kissed him rough. His hands still clutching at Jared’s hair and face, tasting himself on Jared’s tongue. Caught at Jared’s lip with his teeth and dragged as he pulled away.

Jared was gasping for air, and Richard gave him a moment to catch his breath. Nuzzled at his throat and mouthed at his jaw.

“You okay?” Richard murmured.

“ _Nng_ , god…”

“Hmm? Yes or no, babe.”

“Fuck, _yes_.” Jared clung to Richard’s back and whimpered as the older man bit down on the point between his shoulder and neck. “God, yes, Rich…”

Richard hummed and pushed forward, gently nudging Jared onto his back and settling between his legs. Ran a hand between them, up Jared’s thigh to brush against the erection tenting his jeans. Jared bucked against his palm and Richard laughed.

“Easy, baby, easy. We’ll get you there. Lube?”

“Shit.” Jared sighed. “Let me up, I’ll get it.”

Richard rolled off and Jared scrambled to his feet. He shuffled around someplace out of Richard’s field of vision, returning a moment later with a squeeze bottle of lube.

Shifting into a sitting position, Richard held a hand out for the bottle. When Jared bent to pass it, he let his fingers graze over Jared’s wrist before they curled around the lube.

“I want you naked,” he said. “Now.”

Jared swallowed audibly and nodded. As he began to shuck his clothes Richard did the same, trying to calm the thudding in his chest at the knowledge that he was about to be on full display in front of _Jared_ —Jared with his bulked-up Sam Winchester physique, no less. And when all their clothes were cast aside and Jared came down to kneel in front of Richard again, the difference between them had never been more apparent. Jared was smooth, firm, and cut from fucking marble, all youth and grace and gold. And Richard was—he was everything Jared wasn’t.

“Fuck,” Jared breathed. “And you say _I’m_ gorgeous.”  

Something clicked in Richard’s brain, and he shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “Don’t move,” he said, and uncapped the lube. “Don’t touch yourself.”

He adjusted himself so his legs were splayed and he was resting back on one elbow. Coated the fingers of one hand in lube and brought them down below his aching cock to prod at his hole.

Jared followed the movement, breathing heavy. Richard slipped a finger inside himself, then another—he arched into the pressure and burn as he began to work.

Dull pleasure curled inside him, slow and leisurely. He opened himself by degrees, clenching his free fist to avoid the temptation to touch his cock. Jared, he saw, was doing the same, his eyes raking hungrily over the scene before him.

Richard added a third finger, rubbing his prostate in the process—sparks skittered through him, bursting over his skin, and he let out a low moan.

“Jesus,” Jared choked. His cock twitched, blurting a trickle of precome. “Fuck, Rich, I need…”

“Tell me— _ah_ , tell me what you need,” Richard said. His own cock was leaking steady as he continued to push his fingers deeper, faster.

“I need… god, I need to be inside you, need to feel you, wanna come in you…”

“Th-then beg for it, like— _nng_ —like a good boy.” Richard pulled his fingers free, giving Jared an unobstructed view of his slick, stretched hole. He ran his hand along the inside of his thigh, up to his belly to gather up some of his precome. Gripped his cock in his sticky palm and gave it a slow stroke. “Beg, or I’ll just have to come h-here on my own.”

Jared groaned. “God, _please_ , Richard, let me fuck you.”

Richard whimpered and squeezed the base of his cock to keep from coming right there and then. He gave Jared a weak grin and pushed himself up. “With pleasure.”

He crawled over to Jared and gave his cock a solid pump with his lubed hand. He straddled Jared’s thighs, a thrill of anxiety running up his spine as he eyed his seat for the evening. “Pleasure,” he amended, “and no small amount of fear for my asshole.” 

Jared laughed that damn sunny laugh of his and Richard grinned at him—the smile slipped as his eyes landed on the pinkwet plush of Jared’s lip. Richard’s hand twitched.

Before he registered what he was doing, Richard was bringing messy, lubed and filthy fingers up to Jared’s mouth. He pushed past and between his teeth and Jared was _sucking_ , his tongue curling over Richard’s knuckles as he moaned around them. Moaned low and needy, swallowing every last drop.

After a moment, Richard decided his fingers were clean and slid them out of Jared’s mouth, his dick throbbing sharp at the soft, wet _pop_ that accompanied them. Showtime. Richard lifted his hips, aligning himself over his target. Holding it in place beneath him, he sank down onto Jared’s cock in increments, biting hard on his lip as inch after inch disappeared inside him. Jared pressed their foreheads together, breathing hot and short against Richard’s mouth. Finally, he bottomed out, and Richard took a moment to revel in the feel of it—Jared _inside_ him, thick and warm and achingly intimate. Richard leaned forward and kissed him, slow and chaste. Wrapped his arms around him and held their bodies flush together. God, he’d needed this.

Jared shifted beneath him and his cock rocked up slightly, the head grazing Richard’s prostate. Richard broke the kiss with a soft whine—he met Jared’s eye as he did, and it took everything he had not to melt at the unguarded lust and affection he saw there. He brought a hand to cup Jared’s face, brushed a thumb over his cheekbone.

“On your back, sweetheart,” he murmured.

They dropped together, Jared flat on his back with his knees up, and Richard hovering over him. Richard braced himself with his hands on Jared’s shoulders, lifted his hips and sank back down once, twice, again. Jared’s hands found Richard’s ass and Richard found his rhythm, and they fell into a measured pace.

“Stop… stop acting like you’re not impressed,” Richard gasped out.

Jared’s brow furrowed a moment, then his eyes widened and he laughed. “And wh-what am I impressed by, exactly?”

Richard shuddered, for a moment lost in the sensation of a particularly well-aimed grind of his hips. One of Jared’s hands came up to tangle in the curls at the back of his head, and before he knew it he was being pulled down into another kiss.

“I was going to thank you,” Jared whispered when they broke apart.

“Th-thank me?”

“For being so good to me tonight.”

Richard huffed a little laugh. “That’s not your line.”

Jared smiled. “I know.”

Richard kissed him again before pulling back and picking up speed, rocking up and forward on Jared’s cock. “I’ve… wanted this— _fuck_ —so fucking long, Jared,” he gasped out. “W-wanted _you_ … _nng_ , wanted you since… I met you…”

Jared dropped his head back on a moan. “God, Rich…”

“Never… n-never thought you— _ah_ —wanted me too, never thought you could.”

“M’close, gonna—”

Richard splayed a hand on Jared’s chest and tweaked a nipple, grinning as Jared arched beneath him. He ran his palm over and up to Jared’s shoulder, raising it to smooth the hair from his lover’s forehead.

“Let it go,” he whispered. “I’ve got you, Jared, c’mon…”

Another push down, and Jared stiffened, let out a half-bitten sob and came hard in Richard’s core. Richard stilled and groaned along with him, relishing in the feeling of wet heat filling him.

Jared was trembling, and Richard clenched his hole around him, milking him through the aftershocks. He ran his palms over Jared’s torso, crooning nonsense as he rode him out.

A moment later Jared lay boneless on the floor. Richard sat as upright as he could in an effort to keep Jared’s softening cock inside him, and Jared brought his hands up to rub along Richard’s thighs. Richard caught one of his wrists, curled his other hand around his still-leaking cock.

“You ready for me, baby?” he croaked as he pumped himself. His body was a mass of static and lightning, pressure aching tight behind his skin, and he was so damn close. “You ready?”

Jared licked his lips. “Come for me, Rich,” he said.

And Richard was gone.

He was aware, distantly, of his outcry—of his come spilling through his fingers, splashing over Jared’s chest. Of Jared massaging his shaking thighs, his own hand running along his oversensitive cock. But all he was really registering, all his brain had room for, was the warm, liquid pleasure running through him and the sound of Jared calling his name.

 

Some time later he came back to himself—naked and clean and empty, tucked against Jared’s side on the trailer’s couch. A pullout, lucky them. Richard had been conscious the whole time, but he still only had the vaguest memories of getting there.

Jared’s nose was buried in his hair, his arms wrapped tight around him. Richard burrowed closer and tried not to think about how long this could possibly last.

“I had no idea,” Jared murmured, seeming to read his mind. “You’ve felt this way for _years_ , Rich, and I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. You know now.” _And you can tell me to back off now, you can tell me this was just a one-night stand. That you wanted me, but you’re over it now that you've fucked me_.

“Yeah. I just…” Jared tightened his grip. “I wish I’d known sooner. Maybe I would’ve figured it out faster myself.”

Oh. Well, then.

Richard’s chest glowed warm, and he smiled against Jared's skin. _I love you_ , he thought, but didn’t dare say.

Jared chuckled. “Hell, if I’d known sooner I could’ve saved you that headache today. I _am_ sorry about the scene, Rich.”

“Eh, we’ll worry about it on Monday.” Richard shrugged, and pressed a kiss to Jared’s collarbone. He glanced up and met Jared’s eye. “You wanna make it right, get back out there and make it right.”

Jared smiled. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> So remember that time I said I was uncomfortable with RPF? AHAHAHAHAHA this is what happens when you leave me alone with the Speightalecki tag, dammit. 
> 
> I honestly don't ship it IRL, but dear god, in a nobody's-married AU, the idea of it is... *ahem* WAY too stupid-fun to play with. It's like a historical fantasy, except the characters are currently alive. 
> 
> Aaaand now I have to look both Richard and Jared in the eye during my photo-ops at TorCon this year, knowing that I've written explicit pornography about them. *backflips into Hell*


End file.
